


the softness in the steel

by Archadian_Skies



Series: can I make this my home? [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Upgraded Connor | RK900, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Shower Sex, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: There’s no reason to double up, Fowler says, and this model has military upgrades so it will suit your unit better.That’s all the warning he gets before there’s an android standing in his office at 9:00am sharp on Monday.
Relationships: Captain Allen & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Captain Allen/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: can I make this my home? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981195
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anon on tumblr who requested their rarepair. I totally feel the rarepair desperation, hope you like it anon!

While Markus and his merry band were busy demanding equal rights for the bots of America, a neat little plot was uncovered when the CEO of CyberLife was stood down. Part of their agreed terms was to halt the production of androids immediately, and release all those in storage as awakened deviants. What they didn’t count on was the discovery of confidential emails, staunchly denied by the government, placing an order of 200,000 RK900 units for the purpose of crushing the android revolution under heel and restoring the power balance back into the hands of humans. Never happened, of course, and the RK900 never went into production. Only one was fabricated, and was in its final stage of its testing phase when the revolution ended. It then became a reluctant olive branch offered to the DPD, a ‘sorry we tried to make killing machines behind your back but you can have this one and keep the prototype too’.

There’s no reason to double up, Fowler says, and this model has military upgrades so it will suit your unit better. That’s all the warning he gets before there’s an android standing in his office at 9:00am sharp on Monday. 

“Captain Allen, I am the RK900. I have been assigned to SWAT unit 32, under your command.” He says, in a voice deeper than Connor’s and a little more polished. He seems to loom over him, filling out the space of his office like a large shadow, like a Terminator from those movies one of his mothers always liked. 

“Do you have a name?”

“No, I was not assigned one.”

“You’re Connor’s little brother aren’t you?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard you were called Nines or 900 or something.”

“No.” Firm refusal. “I do not wish to be associated with a number.” A pause, a frown. “It feels demeaning.” _Feels_ , he says, because apparently androids can do that now. 

“We’re going to have to call you something.” He cocks a brow, and the android averts his gaze, unsure. “Well. You’re the newest guy to the team so that makes you the rookie.”

“Rookie?” The android echoes curiously.

“You’re the rookie until the next recruit shows up.” He shrugs. “That’s the rule. We’ll call you rookie until either you give us a name, with which we will occasionally call you while still referring to you as rookie, or until there is another recruit; whichever comes first.”

“Understood.”

Connor’s baby brother is 6’5” and if looks could kill everyone would certainly be dead. Terminator’s got the worst case of Resting Murder Face he’s ever seen; it’s as if the psychos at CyberLife used nothing but rulers to design him, as if they took Connor’s model and took away everything that could possibly allude to friendliness. They even gave him startling grey eyes, as if the brown of Connor’s eyes was too warm to keep. What he learns quickly, though, is that even if CyberLife made him look like a cold blooded killing machine, they failed to scrub away the almost puppy-like demeanour so integral to Connor’s personality.

He walks in on his team in the training hall enthusiastically trying to beat the android at every obstacle course, using their years of teamwork to try and pool their skills in order to best CyberLife’s latest and greatest. They fail spectacularly, to no one’s surprise, but the rookie’s grinning in that slightly lopsided goofy way Connor grins and the team muss his hair like one would pat a dog and he lights up just the same. He’s just as eager, as desperate to please, to integrate, to gain the approval of his human peers and there’s something both endearing and a little sad about it.

Everyone’s lives depend on trust and teamwork and that means figuring out where the rookie will fit in best. He runs them through endless simulations and the android bests them all; he can be placed anywhere, given any role, and adapts to each situation perfectly. It’s not enough- a simulation is hypothetical, a simulation is _safe_ and is nothing like the chaos of a real mission with very real lives at stake. 

“Will that be all for tonight, Captain?” He knocks his reading glasses up briefly to rub at his tired eyes, looking up from his reports to find the android standing dutifully at parade rest in front of his desk. 

“Weapons cleaned, locked and logged?”

“Yessir.” A nod.

“You’ve been here a week now.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What do you think of Fowler’s choice, assigning you to my team?”

“I believe I am where I ought to be.” The rookie says slowly. “This is the department where my skills prove most useful. Connor is built to assist with detective work, and has the social programming to build strong social bonds. I lack such programming, and have been built with military modifications instead.”

“The team like you plenty.” He shrugs, and the android’s LED spins yellow as he looks away almost self-consciously.

“I am glad.” He says quietly. “I find their company enjoyable.”

“Good. Their lives depend on how well you work with them, you understand that right?” Another nod, and he spares him one last glance before returning to his reports. “Alright. Dismissed.”

“Do you?” It’s said so quietly he almost misses it. When he looks up, he catches the briefest flicker of red before the android’s LED swirls yellow. 

“Do I what?”

“Like me?” Another brief flicker of red. “You command this team, Captain Allen. You are the most integral part of it. I wish to get along with you too.”

He thinks back on the week that just passed, on the drug busts, on the anti-android protest that turned ugly, on the black market CyberLife raid. He thinks back on the stunned horror on everyone’s faces when the RK900 snapped a rifle in half, picked up a grown man and tossed him aside like a ragdoll in order to protect a fallen teammate. He thinks back on that afternoon when he ran a segment of the baton relay race, of both the SWAT unit and Android Crimes Division combined up against Connor and the rookie. He remembers how easily the brothers had beaten them and how his team had so melodramatically displayed their fake disappointment at losing by trying to tackle the RK900 and piling on him ineffectively. He remembers hearing him laugh and seeing him smile that slightly lopsided smile.

A killing machine with the personality of a puppy; loyal to a fault.

“We get along just fine, rookie.” 

“I am glad, sir.” He says again, softer this time. “Good night.”

He turns 44 on the job, and they’re filthy from chasing perps through the slush, teeth chattering from the cold as they huddle in the van headed back to the precinct. He expects to die on the job, so a birthday holds no special weight. He bargains with himself that if he makes it to 50 then he’ll make a big deal out of it. Maybe. 

He likes to think he’s still in his prime, and this job demands the best from him both physically and mentally. Careful with what he eats, diligent with his exercise and strict with his training he refuses to let himself slip up; he knows better than anyone what this job requires. Still, though, on missions like these he reluctantly admits to himself he’s not 20 and spry anymore. 

The showers cloud with steam as they all scrub off and it’s heaven on his sore muscles and cold skin. Wrapping a towel around his waist he heads back to his locker to grab a fresh set of clean clothes, lost in his thoughts as he goes over the mission in his head. A success, though a messy one. Another slightly amusing, slightly horrifying moment when the rookie snapped a perp’s arm simply by squeezing a little too hard. Jesus he’s glad they’ve got him on their side. 

Fingers ghost along his ribs and he instinctively grabs the hand and twists.

“Captain I-”

“What-” 

“Sorry! You-” Red LED as he drops his hand, and the RK900 steps back to put distance between them. “Your scar- it’s- you have-”

He stares at him and the android fidgets under his gaze. Looking down at himself, he turns slightly and lifts his arm to touch the long jagged scar along his ribs. “Serrated hunting knife.” He taps a puckered scar below his collarbone. “Gunshot.” Another skimming his hip bone. “Gunshot.” Another on his shoulder. “Gunshot.” 

The rookie steps closer hesitantly, reaching out slowly to give him every opportunity to knock his hand away. He remains still, and lets him touch a faint scar on his forehead. “And this one?” 

“Courtesy of my cousin swashbuckling with sticks when I was five.” A small smile spreads on the android’s lips, and he takes the opportunity to look him over. God it isn’t fair the android literally hasn’t put in a day’s work to have a body in peak, perfect shape. He’s plated in kevlar too, and he raps his knuckles on the hard chest plate. “You’re brand spanking new, rookie. Not a scratch on you.”

“Shiny and chrome.” One of the men pipes up. “Don’t worry rookie, you’ll earn your battle scars too someday.”

“Then you’ll really be one of us.” He grins, and the android grins in return and something catches in his throat and he thinks _oh no_.

“Will that be all for tonight, Captain?” Every evening, the same question, the same earnest expression on his face. 

“Weapons cleaned, locked and logged?”

“Yessir.” A nod. “I-” he steps forward hesitantly and thinks the better of it, stepping back. “Happy birthday, Captain Allen. Good night.”

“Thanks rookie.” He manages a tired chuckle. “See you in the morning.”

* * *

Not every mission is a success. Sometimes the intel is bad, sometimes the raid is premature, sometimes the weather fucks them up. Sometimes things just go wrong, horribly, _horrifically_ wrong and all they can manage is damage control.

“No, not like this. Not like this rookie, not on my watch.” He skids over to his side and drops to his knees, the RK900 lying on his back with his chest blown open by an explosive. By a fucking _grenade_ he caught to protect the team. The android is shaking uncontrollably, LED blood red and he bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. “I- I don’t know what to do. Rookie, I don’t-” there’s nothing to press down on, there’s no human anatomy here, he has no fucking clue. There’s just blue everywhere, and some distant part of him thinks Hank Anderson will literally kill him with his bare hands for getting one of his sons killed. And he wouldn’t blame him, he wouldn’t fight him on that either. “Not like this, c’mon rookie, please god not like this-” the call’s already been made, and a medtech van is being sent with the EMTs but he knows he won’t last that long. This is the worst part of the job and though he’d give anything not to be in this position, he wouldn’t wish this on anyone else.

The android weakly grasps his wrist, clumsily pulling his hand to touch an erratically pulsing circle just below his sternum. The blast has indented whatever it is, pushing it in a skewed angle. 

“You want me to pull it out? Get it back in properly?” A weak nod, and he scrambles for his knife. “Okay, okay uh-” He wedges the tip of the knife under the edge of the glowing circle, and it takes a few tries for him to get it to catch properly, the blood making the surface so slippery the blade ends up sliding out of place. It pops up just an inch and then he has to reach in sideways through a missing chunk of plating to push it awkwardly back into an upright position, only then can he pull it out completely. It detaches with a wet click, and then he’s carefully lowering it back in until it latches into place. He’s trying not to focus too much on the fact he can see the rookie’s insides, at all the broken tubes and wires and the sparks, and the blood just pouring out. 

“Stay with me rookie, what’s next? What do you need me to do?” The android pulls insistently on his hands, guiding them towards an open segment on his chest. “Here? I don’t- ugh!” he’s unable to stop the sound of disgust that leaves his mouth as the android pushes his hands inside of his chest until he touches some sort of glass component. It has thick tubes connected to it, and the blast has fractured it in several places. He shifts a little so he’s nearly straddling him in order to keep his hands securely on the biocomponent. It thrums in his hold, warm to the touch. Whatever it is, it’s stabilising him and the rookie looks less frenzied than before, taking slow, measured breaths most likely to ventilate his overheating systems. 

It feels like an eternity before the medtechs arrive with their fancy equipment and then they’re very gently extracting his hands from the rookie’s chest before swarming the android and whisking him away for surgery. 

Somehow he makes it home. He’s not sure of anything, really, but somehow he’s showered and all the blue blood is gone and he’s in his favourite old hoodie from his academy days. His hands shake when he tries to pour himself a drink so he settles for a bottle of water from the fridge. When he looks at his hands they’re clean and then they’re not, they’re drenched in blue, and then they’re clean and they’re blue again and so he takes some advil and goes to bed.

He goes to Jericho in the morning, to see the rookie and he doesn’t know if he’s there to pick up a body or is there to visit a recovering patient. It’s the latter, thankfully, blessedly. 

“So he’s alright?” He asks one of the android doctors, and she nods with a smile.

“Yes, you saved his life.” She leads him down a hallway. “His heart was damaged by the explosion but you held it together and allowed it to keep pumping blood around his body.”

“I had-” he swallows thickly and thinks about the warm glass against his palm, “I held his heart in my hands?”

“And saved his life.” She gestures at a door. “He’s running a diagnostic cycle, but he’ll be ready for discharge in an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank _you_.” She laughs softly, before taking her leave.

The rookie is propped up by a couple of pillows, looking down at his chest. 

“Hey.”

“Look, I have scars now.” The android says quietly, tracing a few jagged lines on the black kevlar plating around the glowing blue circle beneath his sternum.

“In my defence,” he takes a seat by the bed, “there was blood everywhere and I couldn’t wedge my knife under it in one go.” 

“I like them.” He smiles tiredly, touching one of the thin jagged lines. “They remind me you saved my life, Captain.”

“I was way out of my depths there rookie, I’m glad you were awake enough to guide me.” 

They sit there quietly and he listens to the machines beep and whirr and tries not to focus on how exhausted he feels, how raw and exposed he feels because of all that’s transpired.

“I have been alive for exactly one month today.” The rookie says quietly. 

“This is a pretty lousy way to start off the day, sorry.”

“I’m starting it off alive, so I would consider that far from lousy, sir.” 

“Oh so you’ve got no social programming, but you’ve got sass is that it?” He rolls his eyes, unable to stop the smile on his lips. The android regards him with those striking grey eyes and he knows the only cold thing about them is the colour. Reaching for his hands, just like yesterday, he guides them to rest on his chest.

“You held my heart in your hands and you saved my life.” He murmurs, LED flickering yellow and holding. “Would it be alright if I entrusted it to you for safekeeping?”

He knows what he means, he knows what he’s asking of him and it terrifies him. He knows this job is hell, he never wanted a partner to get caught up wondering, waiting for him to come home and the one inevitable time he won’t. He’s kept everyone at arm’s length, he’s given his mind, body and soul to this job in place of his heart. Maybe this way they’ll keep each other safe. Maybe this way it’s better; they both know the risks, they both know what the job demands of them.

Leaning in, he presses their lips together and gives his heart in return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's...spiciness...to follow...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon you didn't ask for filth but here it is anyway, and if you've stumbled onto this rarepair WELCOME I'm taking away Gavin Reed's rights and giving them to Captain Allen instead.

It’s been three days since the mission where everything went wrong, two days since he visited the rookie in Jericho’s Med Bay and a day since he’s been back at work. It’s meant to be business as usual and would’ve been, if not for the fact he kissed that android and made some sort of vow to treat his heart well. Fuck. 

He can try and blame the exhaustion, the lack of sleep, the shock of sticking his hands into the android’s open chest and holding his heart together for his sudden lapse in judgement. He’s always kept people at arm’s length using the excuse it’s to keep them safe but that’s only half true. The truth is he’s terrified because he knows what love is, he grew up in it, basked in its glow under the care of his mothers. He knows it can be ugly and fearsome and all-consuming, and that it’s hard work, back breaking work and compromise and the belief that love conquers all is what makes it true, what makes it real, what makes it worth it. 

It’s too frightening, the fear of giving himself so wholly to someone else and so he’s hidden behind his job all these years to avoid it. And it’s all come crashing down because of one android, so painfully honest, so openly vulnerable with his heart on his sleeve that it’s almost magnetic, the helpless connection between them.

“Captain Allen?” The rookie stands in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter.

“Yes?” God why does he have to be so awkward? Why all this toeing the line, why all this caution around each other? It’s excruciating.

“I have submitted my application for a legal name. Once processed you will receive a copy for your records.” He stands in front of his desk at parade rest, body language formal but expression shy. “My name is Caleb Anderson.”

“Caleb.” He echoes, finding himself smiling. “Good name.”

“Thank you sir.” He ducks his head, and there’s an honest to god soft lilac tinge across the tops of his cheeks. (Does the DPD have a direct line to Elijah Kamski? He’d like a formal word.)

“Would you like to go for a drink after work?” He blurts it out like a high schooler up to his eyeballs in hormones, and realises his mistake immediately. “Oh, err, you can’t drink alcohol. I guess it’d be pointless.”

“I understand it’s a social invitation, sir.” Caleb smiles shyly. “I’d like to spend time with you socially. Besides, the bar down the road sells beverages for android consumption, it wouldn’t be pointless.”

“Alright. Drinks after work, then.”

“I look forward to it.”

* * *

That he has any semblance of social skills is a testament to his school teacher mother, that even after all these years of quick and dirty hookups via apps, the moment he’s taking someone out for a drink he’s automatically getting the door for him, taking his coat from him, offering him the first seat. It’s all muscle memory, and he wonders what his ma will think of him trying to woo an android. Probably incredibly confused but still exasperatedly fond, as she usually is when trying to process most of his decisions. She’ll share _that look_ with his mom and they’ll have an entire conversation through that look alone. He wants that, he thinks, that easy intuitive back and forth without a single word being said. He wants that kind of love. 

Caleb is right, they sell something called Tearium which is thirium coded to imitate human beverages. There’s a whiskey one apparently, so he orders him one of those to match the real whiskey for himself. Subtly Caleb brushes his ankle against his, trying to feign innocence but failing to play it cool because that soft lilac tinge spreads over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and god, he’s ruined, he’s such a mess for him already. When did he get so soft? More importantly, when did he stop permitting himself to be soft around others? When was the last time he allowed someone close enough to be soft with them? 

He actually doesn’t remember a single thing they discuss, though they apparently discuss a lot because it’s past ten when they leave. All he thinks about is how that blush is driving him insane and how he wants to kiss him so badly it’s a physical ache.

“Night cap?” He offers as they’re standing at the curb waiting for a cab. 

“You wouldn’t have anything for me to drink, I wager, sir.” Caleb says lightly, and they’re standing just far enough between the streetlamps that the light looks like a halo behind his dark hair. Their fingers brush, and Caleb traces the inside of his palm delicately. The contact burns. He dares to step closer, lips brushing his ear as he tangles their fingers together.

“Come home with me anyway.” 

The taxi arrives and they crawl inside and Caleb straddles his lap and then they’re kissing, they’re _finally_ kissing. 

“I have thought of nothing but you, nothing but doing this with you.” Caleb whispers, voice slightly staticky when they pull away. He paws at the buttons of his shirt impatiently. “Last week in the showers, when I touched your scar- your skin was so warm. I’d never touched a human before. You had droplets of water all over you. Caught up in your hair. Dotting your lashes. Running down your skin.” He leans in and punctuates each statement with a kiss, hand slipping inside his shirt. “I wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste you. I went home that evening and I touched myself while thinking of you.”

“ _Christ_ Caleb.” He hisses as the android scratches his nails along his ribs, head swimming as he tries to process the confession. Caleb looks down at him, lids heavy and cheeks flushed. 

“It felt good, touching myself while thinking of you, but-” he tips his head back, exposing his throat and he accepts the invitation, licking a long stripe and revelling in the shudder he extracts. “But I want to know what it really feels like, to be touched by you.”

God the guy’s brand new, this is a first for him and if he stops to think about it, it’s a first for him too. He’s bedded a lot of people to sate these basic cravings, with a variety of...genital configurations, but he’s never taken an android to bed before. Guess there’s still a first time for everything. 

He fumbles for his keys when the cab pulls up and Caleb dives forward to slam his palm on the dashboard, LED flickering yellow rapidly before settling back to blue. 

“What-”

“Scrubbed the security feed.” The android shrugs, expression mischievous. “Wouldn’t want the taxi company seeing all that.”

“I’d say they’re used to it.” To his credit he manages to keep it together long enough to swipe the security fob against the panel and keeps his hands to himself in the elevator, blatantly ignoring the intense look of hunger on Caleb’s face. To his credit it only takes him two tries to unlock his door and then he’s being slammed against it and kissed senseless as the android makes short work of divesting him of his clothes. 

“Stop.” He says firmly, pushing him back by the shoulders. Caleb pauses, LED red and lips glossy and hair tousled; a perfect picture of debauchery. He takes a deep breath and cups his nape, thumb rubbing along his synthetic skin. “Do you really want to do this?”

“Yessir.” No hesitation.

“We’re not at work, Caleb.” He chastises gently, and something wicked flickers in those grey eyes as he feigns innocence more successfully this time.

“But David, I can see how it affects you when I say it.” He nearly purrs the word. “ _Sir_.”

He growls and tightens his hold on his nape, like holding the scruff of a dog to keep it in check. “How do I-” he swallows thickly, trying to distract himself from the throbbing ache between his legs, “how do I please you? Teach me.”

Why is the bedroom the furthest room from the door? They stumble to it somehow, losing the rest of their clothes along the way, pausing only so he can watch Caleb’s gorgeous ass when he walks ahead, and then he’s pushing the android down onto his bed. Past him really had no idea he made the best choice ever choosing black sheets because it makes Caleb’s pale skin glow. Their mouths meet, and it’s a clumsy, feverish clack of teeth and tongue and he wants to devour him whole. Caleb grabs his wrist and guides it between his legs.

“I have a- there’s-” the android lets out a frustrated growl, seemingly done with words and simply swaps to actions instead. He presses his fingers along a discreet seam in the crease of his inner thigh, and when he hooks his nails in the faint indent it slides a hatch open. Huh. Inbuilt codpiece to protect the bits. Neat. Scooting down further on the bed, he lowers himself for a closer look.

“God is that all for one person?” He blurts, and Caleb blinks in surprise, propping himself up by his elbows.

“What?”

“Why are you so big?” Blood’s all between his legs and none left in his brain apparently. 

“I- is it not proportionate to my build?” Caleb stammers, confused and slightly defensive.

“I’m not complaining, I promise.” He laughs because, well he’s an idiot for him apparently as he scoots further down on the bed so he can admire the android’s stiffening cock. “Show me how you touched yourself the other night.” 

“Yessir.” Caleb says obediently, palming himself slowly before gripping the base of his cock and thumbing over the slit. He tips his head back, arching slightly into his hand as he strokes himself slowly. Spreading his legs wider, he reaches further between his legs with his other hand and eases a finger inside, face going slack with pleasure. 

“You thought of me while doing this?” His voice is rough and dry as he cradles his hips, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses to Caleb’s pale thighs. 

“Yessir.” He bites his bottom lip as he presses another finger inside. “No one but you.”

“Let me touch you.” He kisses the base of his cock, nipping at Caleb’s fingers playfully. “Will you let me touch you?” He waits until Caleb nods, pulling his hands away and resting them on his shoulders, grip tight. He wonders if he should say grace before this meal, and the absurd thought makes him giggle and everything is wonderfully ridiculous. The android is...wet where he shouldn’t be, and that’s another thing he’s going to have to talk to Elijah Kamski about (though actually he’s not sure if Kamski designed this one, in which case a formal investigation will need to be opened to find those individuals responsible). Pushing his tongue inside of him coaxes a strangled choke of surprise out of Caleb, causing him to buck his hips reflexively. It’s delightful so he latches his mouth over his hole and sucks as he licks inside of him. He tastes vaguely of salt, like a mild mimicry of sweat. 

“Please, please sir I-” Caleb whines, clawing at his back. He pulls away and crawls up his body so he can kiss him, rutting against him for that delicious friction. “ _In_ , please, please I need you inside me.” The android is leaking as if he possessed a vulva and he finds that a fascinating, lewd little disregard for human physiology. Caleb’s thighs are slippery with it, and there’s a growing damp spot on the dark sheets. Fuck, he finds that so hot. Clumsily reaching between them, Caleb squeezes his cock and guides the tip to his asshole, bucking needily against him. “ _In_.” 

He breaches him slowly and all he can process is _tight_ and _wet_ and _hot._ God he wants nothing more than to fuck him mercilessly, desperately, but the guy looks slightly nervous and so openly trusting that if he wanted to hurt him he’d just take it. And it’s that thought that makes him ease up, that makes him start off with an agonisingly slow pace so the android can adjust, adapt to the intrusion. 

“Is this what you thought of, when you touched yourself?” He whispers when he’s bottomed out, sheathed completely inside him. Caleb’s pupils are blown wide with lust, another minute detail someone surely borrowed from the Traci models because why else would a military android come undone like this? 

“Yessir.” A satisfied sigh, eyelids fluttering closed. Locking his legs around his waist and hooking his ankles together at the small of his back, Caleb wriggles impatiently. “Move, please.”

“This is alright?” He asks, pressing their brows together and not moving until Caleb opens his eyes. “Caleb? Is this alright?”

“I need more, please sir, _please_.” God he even begs so prettily, and that’s the cue he’s been waiting for. He loses himself to the raw animalistic urge to just fuck into that tight wet heat, hips snapping hard as he rutts into him. The room fills with the filthy sounds of their lust, of their panting, their groans, of the vulgar squish of his cock fucking into Caleb’s dripping ass. The android’s LED is a bright neon red in the dark of the room, painting his face in a soft pink hue. _Beautiful_.

An irritated, impatient growl escapes his throat, and Caleb grabs him by the shoulders, swapping their positions so the android is pinning him against the mattress. Chest heaving, Caleb takes a moment to smooth back his hair distractedly and he can only admire him in unabashed awe, eyes roaming over that perfectly chiselled body. Licking his lips, Caleb leans forward a little and guides his cock back to his asshole before swiftly dropping his entire weight down. It punches a moan out of him, and he grips Caleb’s hips as the android braces his hands on his chest and rides him wantonly. God he’s going to think of this every single night for as long as he lives, isn’t he? He’s never going to be able to forget the blissful expression on Caleb’s face, the burning red LED at his temple, the slick smeared all over their thighs, the pretty way he nearly sings in gratification as he bounces on his cock. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He tosses his head back against the pillows. “Take your pleasure from me, it’s all yours.” The climax hits him between the eyes, everything rising from fever pitch to white hot and blanking him out for a few glorious moments as he spills himself inside of him and he chases after it as Caleb shudders above him, face frozen as he reaches his own orgasm, spurting sticky white ribbons across his stomach. They stay that way for a little while, and he tries to remember how to breathe as he feels Caleb’s thighs tremble as the aftershocks of his climax settle in. He runs his palms along those strong, muscular thighs, grin lazy and thoughts hazy. 

“That was-” Caleb pants, LED flickering red-yellow-red-yellow before slowly spinning blue. “That was a lot.” He eases himself off his softening cock and sprawls out beside him atop the ruined sheets. He looks beautifully fucked out and lax, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss him, slowly, sweetly. When was the last time doing this ever meant something? Did it ever mean anything to him? Who knew all it would take to lower his defences was a 6’5” Terminator with the personality of a loyal puppy and nearly losing him on a mission while having to literally hold his broken heart in his hands. 

“C’mon. Shower time. We’re both a mess.” He grunts, pushing himself to sit up and get off the bed. Caleb doesn’t follow immediately, reaching out to smear the thick stripes of come on his stomach before bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking it away. The sight makes desire stir in his cock tiredly and he rolls his eyes. “Do not.” A warning that goes unheeded as the android reaches between his legs to dip two fingers in his messy hole, maintaining eye contact as he sucks them clean. _Fuck_. “Caleb.”

“Coming, sir.” He says casually, following him to the bathroom. The large glass shower fits them both, not too snug they can’t move but enclosed enough they have to stay close. It’s a stupidly expensive apartment but now he’s glad he bought it with all its fancy modern trappings. Like this shower that can fit them both, with enough room for Caleb to drop to his knees and start sucking him off. He bites back a groan, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tangling in his dark hair. Caleb looks up at him with those bright grey eyes, and the sick fuckers at CyberLife built him with no gag reflex apparently because he swallows him down with no pause. He’s already sensitive from his last orgasm, but oh fuck he’s hard again in record time. Strong hands grip his ass and keep him from thrusting into his mouth, Caleb controlling his pace as he bobs back and forth, able to take him from tip to base effortlessly. He comes embarrassingly fast with a long string of expletives and the smug, mischievous look on Caleb’s face as he swallows is hotter than the entire act of fellating him. 

“You little shit.” He pants, boneless as he slumps against him once Caleb is back on his feet.

The android hums a little pleased noise, arms wrapping around him. “You told me to take my pleasure from you, so I’m taking it.” Kisses are smudged atop his head and after a moment there’s a soft click behind him. Fingers scritch along his scalp, lathering shampoo into his hair and there’s something way too intimate about this, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. He grabs the shampoo bottle, squirting out a dollop before reaching up to muss it into Caleb’s hair.

“Oh, it isn’t real there’s no need to-”

“I want to.” He cuts him off, trying to keep his voice casual. “I want to do this.”

The shower lasts far longer than a shower should because his limbs feel heavy and the heat and the steam are clouding his head and making everything feel not quite real. Caleb turns off the water eventually and they pat themselves dry with the towels, and then they’re crawling into bed and tangling their legs beneath the sheets. Is this his belated birthday present? Is this good karma for palming off the mission to confront the deviants marching down the streets, those same deviants later on identified as the Jericho Four? Is this the universe’s way of rewarding him for getting his shit together and crossing to the right side of history? 

Caleb makes a soft pleased little noise as he tucks his head beneath his chin, arms draped loosely around him. “You’re thinking so loudly. What are you thinking about?” 

The question makes him pause, and he cards his fingers through the android’s dark hair, idly tracing his blue LED. “That I could get used to this.” The ring flickers yellow, blinking rapidly for a good thirty seconds before cycling back to blue. “Caleb?”

“Oh, that was Connor.” The android murmurs, words smudged into his collarbone. “I was just telling him I was staying the night after having sexual relations with you.”

“...what?”

“Hm?” 

“What did you tell him?”

“Well I-” Caleb pulls back just a little so he can blink up at him. “I live with my brother, at Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s house. I return there after work, every day. I initially told him I was staying out late to have drinks with you under the assumption I would be returning home afterward. Unless...you’d rather I leave?”

“No! God no, I don’t want you to leave.” He reassures hurriedly, pressing a kiss to his frown. “I just- I wasn’t expecting you to tell Connor... _that_.”

The android regards him with those startling grey eyes, blinking slowly, LED flickering yellow briefly before a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “You’re nervous because you think my brother is going to tell Hank.”

“Hank Anderson is likely to skin me alive tomorrow if Connor tells him exactly what you just told him, yes.” He grumbles as Caleb laughs brightly and he can’t ignore the lightness in his chest, that happy little skip his heart makes as the android nuzzles under his chin again. “I’ll deal with that in the morning.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DBH: Here's Captain Allen he leads SWAT unit 32 that's literally all the info we're giving you  
> Me: Right, so he's a pan disaster with two mothers and he's actually very charming and is all around tired but good.  
> I snuck an [Almost Human](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/174452126677/relatedworlds-deactivated201402-wait-youre-a) joke in there, and if you ever want a good human/android buddycop show guess what, Almost Human did it first and did it BETTER. [Here is a presentation](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/69865133475/saucefactory-lucyliuism-i-spetn-2-hours-on) on why you should watch it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested a morning after prompt: [“That was a workout.”] so I guess I'm not done?

Sleep is considered an indulgence for him, and even then he doesn’t tend to indulge any more than two hours at most. He is built to run for at least a week with minimal recharging, but it was his own brother who taught him that sometimes it’s pleasant to just lie down and tune out the rest of the world for a little while. So he lies down, tuning out the world, and the body curved against his is warm and pliant and oh so alive in a way he isn’t. 

Captain Allen’s phone shows there will be an alarm at 6:00am, and then another at 6:30am, followed by one at 7:00am and finishing with one at 7:30am. That means the man averages seven hours of sleep and rises early (6:00am) for a morning run (6:30am), and a yoga session (7:00am) before leaving for work (7:30am). He is a disciplined, orderly man which is reflected in both his conduct at work and here in his home life. Caleb likes that about him. Without a mission furrowing his brow, David looks younger in his sleep, hair tousled instead of slicked back and expression lax instead of hardened with intense concentration. Carefully Caleb reaches out to smooth a few unruly locks away from his face, and his eyes pick up a few glints of silver threaded through the strands. There’s something boyishly charming about him, something a little old fashioned in the way he treats Caleb, like a gentleman from a bygone era. Caleb likes that about him too.

When the human’s vitals reflect a deep REM cycle, the android quietly eases out of bed and retraces his steps to the front door, collecting their hastily discarded clothes along the way. He folds them neatly, placing them on the end of the bed ready for the morning. The apartment is large and airy, decorated in sleek, dark, masculine decor. It is aesthetically pleasing but shows little life, unlike the way Lieutenant Anderson’s home seems lived in, worn in a way this isn’t. It tells him Captain Allen is rarely home long enough to make the space feel occupied. The fridge and pantry are well stocked, and there are cooking utensils in the dish rack. Meals are stacked in containers labelled neatly with days of the week, ordered left to right in the fridge. A self-sufficient man, reliant on no one but himself. 

Caleb takes his time exploring the apartment, careful to keep noise at a minimum in order not to disturb the human slumbering in the bedroom. He lies down on the couch and connects to the obsolete MP3 player sitting in the dock, downloading the songs so he can listen to them. It passes the time in an enjoyable way, allowing more insight into the man’s tastes. At four in the morning, Connor requests to communicate with him, and he opens a channel for his brother.

[What are you doing now?]

‘I am making my way through Captain Allen’s music collection.’

[Does he have records like Hank?]

‘No but he has an obsolete MP3 player filled with songs from the mid 2000s to the late 2010s.’

[Will you stay over at his apartment often? Do you think it will lead to cohabitation?]

‘Perhaps.’ Caleb mulls on the thought, letting it turn in his mind and worm its way deep. ‘I am not sure. This is the first time we have been intimate. I am not sure what he wants to do next.’

[Curious.] Connor hums thoughtfully. [I have no such inclinations towards romantic or sexual relations.]

‘You take after our father that way.’ Caleb points out, and he thinks he can feel Connor’s smile even without seeing it. 

He slides back beneath the covers after disconnecting from his brother’s conversation. David shifts a little at the movement, and Caleb eases him into his arms. Androids are not warm like this, soft like this. Human bodies have a certain give to them, since they are muscle and fat and sinew and skin layered over a skeleton frame. He breathes him in, nose in his hair, able to analyze the chemical components of the shampoo he used in the shower earlier, and the natural oils of his scalp. His heartbeat is steady, his breathing relaxed and Caleb uses those sounds, the steady tempo, to lull him to sleep as he slowly shuts off his processes one by one, easing into stasis.

At 5:53, a full seven minutes before the first alarm, he feels David begin to stir awake. It’s a quickening of his heartbeat, a deeper inhale and exhale, a slight twitch in his fingertips and toes as his body prepares for more movement. He’s not quite conscious yet but he wriggles a little, as if chasing more warmth, more contact. Caleb presses his lips to his bare shoulder, tongue darting out to taste his skin. David huffs, squirming away from his mouth and yet tightening his arms around him. There’s arousal present in his sweat, and Caleb can feel his already half hard cock thickening between them. He kisses the juncture where his jaw meets his ear, closing his lips over the jutt of his bone and sucking mildly. David groans hands clumsily pushing at his shoulders.

“Jesus Christ Caleb it’s barely six.” His voice is an octave deeper, scratchy with sleep still and Caleb commits it to memory as his nips along his jawline, tongue laving over the stubble dotted there. Tilting his head slightly, Caleb licks up along the column of his throat before pressing their lips together briefly. The early dawn light peeks through the slats, throwing warm yellows across them, catching in David’s green eyes when he finally opens them to regard him with exasperation. 

“And you’re already hard.” Caleb teases, snaking a hand between them to palm his stiffening cock. David rolls his eyes, gritting his teeth as he gives him a squeeze. 

“God you’re impossible.” He grumbles, rutting into his hand for more friction. It takes him four tries to open his inseam, limbs still heavy with sleep and dexterity still lacking as he gropes for his cock. “Fuck I’m not awake enough for this.”

“Parts of you are.” He quips, stealing another kiss as David coaxes him to hardness. The alarm goes off, heralding six in the morning and Caleb reaches out to swipe the off option and silence it. Thirty minutes until the scheduled morning run; plenty of time. Rolling over, he tugs David to curve against his back, pressing the cleft of his ass insistently against his cock. He’s already wet, his thighs slick with lubricant. “Please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” David nips the tip of his ear, voice still rough like gravel as he pushes inside him. Caleb arches in pleasure, mouth open in a silent cry as his body squeezes around the intrusion. He lets out a shaky sigh as David slides his hand up his abdomen, fingers rubbing over one nipple and pinching it just a little too hard. They fuck and it’s a heady, lazy affair as they chase their pleasure. There isn’t any of last night’s urgency, no trace of that animalistic desperation. It’s a slow, simmering heat coiling in his system and he keens as David hooks his hand behind his knee, lifting his leg up so he can fuck into him harder, deeper, with the new angle. Teeth clamp into his shoulder as he bites him to muffle himself, and Caleb whines needily, reaching for his own cock. David growls, smacking his hand away.

“No, you started this, you don’t get to come first.” A gutteral rasp right into his ear and Caleb nearly mewls in protest, rutting against the sheets for any sort of friction.

“ _ Please- _ !”

“Hands where I can see ‘em.” His captain commands, and Caleb grips the pillow instead. “Good.” It takes a little longer this time, because he’s still clouded with sleep but it’s no less sweet, no less exhilarating when Caleb feels him shudder, cock twitching inside him as he reaches release. Reaching around, he finally, blessedly squeezes his neglected member and jerks him off in quick, sharp tugs. His thumb lingers on the head, and when he teases his slit with the tip of his nail Caleb arches like a taut bow and comes hard into his hand with a strained cry. 

>System in cooldown

>>Minimise exertion

>>Seek fluid intake

Grinning to himself, he swats the notifications away and rolls back over to kiss his lover languidly. David’s hair is tousled, sweat dotting his brow as his chest heaves for breath. He’s looking at him with a mixture of irritation and fondness, and the sight alone makes Caleb kiss him again, soft and sweet.

“Well. That was a workout.” David bumps their brows together. “I don’t think I’m going for that morning run now.”

“I’ll change the beddings after we shower?” Caleb offers by means of an apology though he isn’t really sorry at all. “And I’ll get coffee from down the road while you do yoga?”

“Deal.” He sighs, acting put upon though the smile betrays his tone completely. One more kiss before they finally get out of bed. Suddenly David’s phone vibrates insistently on the bedside table just as Caleb receives an inbound call.

“Allen.” He answers curtly as Caleb presses two fingers to his LED.

“RK900, receiving.”

A mission. They scramble for their clothes, forgoing the shower in favour of wiping themselves down with a damp hand towel. The mellow mood vanishes in an instant, replaced with something grim. Caleb watches David withdraw into himself, step behind the veneer of the man who leads SWAT Unit 32. There he is: Captain Allen ready to command.

“Alright rookie, let’s go.”

“Yessir.” He follows him obediently to the door and the man pauses, reaching to tweak the collar of Caleb’s jacket and for a moment he glimpses him again; David offers a brief, affectionate little smile and Caleb leans down swiftly to kiss it before it vanishes. 

Onward.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/)


End file.
